


Collateral Damage

by orphan_account



Series: AkaKage Weekend 2016 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Modelling, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-05-12 17:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5674882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kageyama Tobio wins a modelling competition and now he gets his one last shot at breaking into the business. He needs to do well here to earn the contract that's on offer. If he can't do that, he's going back home to live a miserable life working for his parents, dreaming of the life he couldn't achieve.</p><p>When a pipe bursts in his hotel, modelling agent Bokuto Koutarou brings him to stay at the apartment of Kageyama's idol, Akaashi Keiji. He can't believe his luck, until love begins to brew between the two, and suddenly it isn't smooth sailing anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/gifts).



> This story has been kicking my ass, so I split it into three parts to get it out faster. The second part is still a work in progress, but I'll hopefully finish it very soon. I know where I'm going with this, and I love the story so much. 
> 
> This is for the third day of the AkaKage Weekend, but because of its length, it took priority over the others and therefore it's actually getting published second. Once this story is finished, I'll work on the other two. 
> 
> It'll roughly be around 10-20k.

Part 1

** _DO YOU WANT TO BE A MODEL?_ **

_Yes, I do_ , thinks Tobio as he stares at the headline to the competition he’s contemplating entering. There’s a possibility it could be a scam, yes, but the prize is a photoshoot with Akaashi Keiji, Japan’s most popular model and Tobio’s idol, as well as a chance at a modelling contract if the agents like the model enough. How could he _not_ enter?

“Oi, Kageyama,” says Hinata, his bright orange hair tickling Tobio’s cheek as he leans over his shoulder to get a peek at the computer screen, “are you _still_ looking at the competition page? Just enter and be done with it!”

“But what if it’s a scam?” says Tobio nervously, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He’s desperate to enter because it closes tomorrow morning and he only found out about it today and there’s no way he wants to miss out on such a big opportunity, but still.

“Do they ask for your credit card details?”

Tobio searches through the list of information he’s required to give them to enter. “No, there’s none of that.”

“Do they say you have to pay for anything? Like, the contract itself? Or accommodation?”

Tobio checks again. “Um, no.”

Hinata leans back and thwacks Tobio over the head. “Then it’s not a scam, you dummy! Just enter and it over and done with—although you might be fucked if they ask you to smile in the profile photo you have to send. Your smile gives children nightmares and kills all small animals who see it—ah!” He yelps as Tobio fastens a hand in his hair and tugs, hard.

“K-Kageyama, stop it, I’ll go bald!”

“Fine,” says Tobio, releasing Hinata and slumping back into his chair. “I’ll enter the competition. Probably won’t win anyway…”

“Enough with the defeatist attitude!” shouts Hinata, hitting Tobio on the shoulder. “You’re not bad looking, if that’s what you’re worried about. So long as you don’t smile, you can pull off the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ look the ladies oh so desire. But seriously though, don’t smile.”

“My smile isn’t that bad!” snarls Tobio.

He knows Hinata’s joking and at any other time he’d have willingly played along with it, but he’s too nervous now. For the past year and a half he’s been looking for a way into the modelling world, going to studio after studio with his portfolio, but nobody wants to take him on. This could very well be his last shot at his dream job. If he misses out on this, he’ll have to go back home and take up the family business and dream about a life he could never have.

“Just shut up, okay? This is extremely important to me.”

Hinata sighs and purses his lips. “I know. But you’ll get it, alright? There’s no way you won’t.”

“This competition is Japan-wide. There must be a thousand or so entries in this thing.” Tobio drags a hand through his hair, pushing the feelings of hopelessness back as he starts to type in his details. “My chances of winning are slim.”

“What did I say about that defeatist attitude of yours?”

“I’m not being a defeatist! I’m being realistic.”

“Then don’t be a realist either. You’re no good at that.”

“Tch. Shut up. Help pick out the best photo of me.”

 

* * *

 

Once the entries to the competition close, Tobio spends the next week riddled with anxiety, checking his email account over and over even though he knows the results won’t be sent out until Sunday.

“Honestly, Kageyama, can you stop fussing?” Hinata asks exasperatedly. He’s watching television with a bowl of corn chips in his lap. “Stop checking the computer every five freaking minutes and come sit down.”

“I can’t! What if they decide to announce it early?”

“The chances of that happening are slim. Either sit down or I’ll confiscate the damn computer and hide it where you’ll never find it.”

With a heavy, put-upon sigh Tobio joins Hinata on the sofa and wonders, not for the first time, why he chose Hinata for a flat-mate. Staring at the bowl of corn chips, sucking his lower lip between his teeth, Tobio’s hand shoots out and steals the bowl from Hinata, who lets out a squawk of indignation.

“That’s mine!” Hinata shouts, trying to snatch the bowl back, but Tobio keeps it out of his reach, munching happily on a handful of chips. “If you wanted some, you should’ve just asked.”

“Why do that when this is more fun?”

Hinata snarls at Tobio, then lunges across the sofa until he’s lying on top of Tobio, hands grabbing for the bowl that’s still too far out of his reach.

“Give that back, you turd!”

“Get off me, you dumbass!”

Their fight ends up with Tobio dropping the bowl as Hinata hits his arm down and it would’ve broken his elbow to keep holding it out. Corn chips spill out all over the floor, and they have to hurry to clean it up before the chip dust gets trodden into the carpet and their increasingly irritated landlord finally gets a good enough reason to chuck them out on their asses. It’s obvious, but they haven’t been the quietest of neighbours since they moved in.

 

* * *

 

The days until Sunday drag on forever. Tobio becomes increasingly tense and anxious the more the time passes. He keeps checking his emails, but aside from messages about new deals in his favourite stores, as well as some new petition stuff he keeps getting despite the fact he’s sure he blocked them, there’s nothing about the competition.

Hinata learns not to say anything about his nerves when Tobio snaps and blows up at him for a good ten minutes before he calms down. Tobio knows Hinata understands why he’s so jittery; this is his last shot. His final chance at getting into the industry.

Finally, Sunday arrives, and if anything, Tobio’s attitude is worse than ever. He’s about ready to vomit. Hinata can barely drag his attention away from the computer where he’s refreshing his inbox before hurriedly going to check the agency’s website to see if they’ve announced a winner. It’s hours yet until they make their announcement, but he can’t help himself. Mechanically, he eats what Hinata puts in front of him.

“I hope you get it,” says Hinata earnestly, an hour before the winner is announced. He’s given up on the television, dragging a kitchen chair over to sit beside Tobio. “How long to go?”

Tobio glances at the time in the corner of the screen. “About forty-three minutes.”

“This is so exciting!” Hinata grips Tobio by the shoulder and shakes him a bit. He props his bare feet up on the desk and ignores Tobio’s reprimand for it. “There’s no way you’re not gonna win it. I’ve got a good feeling about this!”

“Don’t say that!” Tobio snaps, fear shooting through him like an electrical current. He bangs his fist three times against the wooden desk to ward off bad luck. “What if you jinxed me there, you asshole?”

Hinata cackles, tipping his chair back a bit. “You worry too much, Kageyama! How would that have jinxed you? So superstitious.”

“Dumbass Hinata! Dumbass!”

Tobio grabs Hinata’s hair and tugs. Hinata squawks loudly, trying to prise Tobio’s fingers away. Inexplicably, he’s laughing too.

One of their neighbours bangs on the wall shouting, “Be quiet, you two! For heaven’s sake, some of us are trying to sleep!”

“It’s like seven o’clock at night,” mutters Hinata, shooting the wall a nasty look like it had insulted his hair. “Who the hell goes to sleep at this time?”

“Old people and those with nothing better to do,” Tobio replies.

“So that’ll be you in about ten years then?”

Their neighbour ends up coming to their door to complain about the noise, after Tobio pulls Hinata’s hair some more.

“Alright, be quiet Hinata!” says Tobio, once they’ve done apologising to their neighbour and returned back to their chairs. “There’s fifteen minutes left to go.”

Hinata arches a brow. “And I have to be quiet because there’s fifteen minutes left?”

“Yes. Maybe if you’re quiet enough, I’ll have a chance.”

Pursing his lips, Hinata stays quiet for the remaining fifteen minutes, much to Tobio’s relief. He’s so nervous he can barely sit still. Any comment from Hinata could cause him to snap—literally. He’s trembling so much he’s practically vibrating.

A new message appears in Tobio’s email account. It’s from the agency. The headline announces that they’ve chosen the winner. Tobio’s hand shakes so much as he tries to navigate the cursor to click on the link, and Hinata takes pity on him and does it for him.

At first there’s nothing more than the terms and conditions of the competition, as well as what the winner will be receiving—the photoshoot, the chance at getting a contract with them—and almost at the very end, there’s a name.

 **CONGRATULATIONS TO:**  
_Kageyama Tobio, Torono Town, Miyagi Prefecture._  
**YOU’VE WON THE COMPETITION!**

“No,” Tobio gasps, his hands slowly coming up to cup his face. He can’t stop staring at the screen. “Did I—is that—?”

“You won!” Hinata shrieks. “Kageyama, _you won_!”

He hugs Tobio so forcefully they fall off their chairs and land in a heap on the floor. Hinata’s shouting about how proud he is and how he knew Tobio would win it, and all Tobio can do is stare up at the ceiling, laughing in disbelief.

Nothing can dim his elation, not even his neighbour coming back and almost banging down their door, complaining about the noise.

He won.

 

* * *

 

The next week and a half is spent preparing for the trip to Tokyo. One of the best things about the trip is that there was an ‘all expenses paid’ clause. He doesn’t have to spent anything on the trains to get there.

He’s had a couple of Skype calls with a woman named Takeshi-san, who’s running the whole thing, making sure everything goes smoothly. However he’s not quite sure what she looks like, as the connection was always bad due to Tobio’s faulty Internet connection.

“I’m so jealous,” Hinata moans. “You get to go to _Tokyo_!”

“Maybe we can go on a trip to Tokyo later in the year,” suggests Tobio, zipping up his bag. He won’t be taking much with him.

“Really?” Hinata asks, brightening considerably. “Yeah! Let’s do it! I wanna see Tokyo Tower and everything. Promise me we’ll go at the end of the year?”

“I can’t promise that we’ll actually go,” says Tobio, “but I can promise to at least save up for it, then we’ll just have to see what happens.”

“Nope, we’re going at the end of the year. I don’t care what you say.”

“Tch. Dumbass.”

“Yeah sure, whatever you say. So when do you leave?”

“That eager to get rid of me, are you?”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “I just wanna know. Don’t be difficult.”

“Two days from now,” Tobio replies. He takes a shaky breath. “I’m really nervous. What if I don’t have what it takes?”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Of course you have what it takes. Enough with the defeatist attitude—I’ve told you that so much.”

“I know, I know. You’re right.” Tobio closes his eyes. “Think positive thoughts.”

“Yeah. Remember, you _did_ have to send a photo of yourself in. Out of the thousand entries they got, they picked _you._ Doesn’t that say something?”

Tobio ducks his head to hide a smile. “Y-yeah.”

“Yeah, it does. That means they consider you worthy, even if you, for some reason, don’t! Trust their judgement more than yours, in this case; they are professionals, after all.” Hinata stands at his fullest height, looking proud of himself for that little speech. Tobio feels a rush of gratitude to have him as his best friend. “Anyway, bring me something cool back from Tokyo, got it? Otherwise I’ll be mad.”

“Ooh, someone save me from the puffer fish when he’s mad,” says Tobio sarcastically. Even as he says it, his tone causes Hinata’s cheeks to puff out, upset at being teased like this. Tobio reigns in his laughter. “Alright, alright. I’ll bring you back something cool.”

“Yay, you’re the best, Kageyama!” Hinata leaps a foot in the air, his arms and legs splayed out wide. “Ooh, will you get free stuff at the photoshoots like clothes or something? That’d save you time shopping!”

“I dunno,” admits Tobio. “I know they’ll be sending me the photos in the mail, though, once I’m done. It’d be easier to make a portfolio with them instead of photos you and I have taken in parks and stuff. More professional-looking.”

“Don’t diss my skills, man.”

“Wasn’t. You’re a good photographer Hinata. Nobody’s cell phone pictures look anywhere close to being as good as yours.” Tobio’s only half-joking. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Hinata hadn’t been so willing to take multiple photos of him in random locations. If Hinata hadn’t seen it as an adventure, he probably wouldn’t have had a decent picture to use in the competition. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” says Hinata happily. “Get back to packing, or you’ll forget something you really, really need to bring. I’m not gonna spend any of my next paycheque mailing out to you whatever it was you forgot.”

“Dumbass, I’m not you. I wouldn’t forget something I need so easily.”

Walking out of Tobio’s room, Hinata calls over his shoulder, “You say that, but just you wait! Sooner or later you’ll call me sounding like a lost little kid, begging me to send you something you ended up not packing.”

“Doubtful, very doubtful!”

“If you say so!”

 

* * *

 

It takes roughly four hours to reach Tokyo. Tobio’s spent most of it playing Pokémon on the DS Hinata let him borrow. He’ll take it to the grave that he sucks playing the game and couldn’t defeat a fire type with a water type, nor can he ever get past the first gym. He always makes sure to start a new game to get rid of his old one, so that Hinata will never see just how awful he actually is at it.

There’s a man with silver and black hair and huge eyes waiting at the station for him, holding up a card with Tobio’s name on it. Immediately, Tobio heads toward him.

“Ah! Kageyama-kun,” says the man. He tucks the card away under his arm. “Congratulations on winning the competition! Apparently you won by a landslide; everyone liked the look of you.”

He holds out his hand and Tobio shakes it. Tobio feels a little bowled over because this man is talking a mile a minute and he has to maintain conscious effort to keep up and understand him. It’s like he’s met a taller version of Hinata.

“I’m Bokuto Koutarou,” says the man, jabbing a thumb at himself. “I’m here to take you to your temporary agent because she got caught up in work things and couldn’t come get you on time. She just has a few more things to finalise, that’s all. But anyway! Follow me. There’s a driver out front waiting for the two of us, and he charges by the minute because he’s a stingy bastard like that.”

He pauses, his mouth opening in an ‘o’ shape as he remembers something. Then he shoves his hand into his pocket and holds out a card.

“This is my business card,” he says. “I should probably give this to you now before I forget. If at any point you need help with something, call me and I’ll be right there.”

He flashes Tobio a winning grin, and Tobio can’t help but make his best attempt at returning it without looking too scary. “Oh, um, would you like my number?” “Sure! Just send me a text to the number on the card and I’ll save your number.” Tobio does as he’s told, sending a ‘Hello it is Kageyama Tobio’ to the number on the card, and Bokuto flashes him a grin and saves the number.

Without warning, Bokuto seizes Tobio’s bag and carries it for him, ignoring Tobio’s protests. All Tobio can do is follow Bokuto out of the station and hope that his agent—temporary agent, he reminds himself—isn’t as excitable as this man is.

 

* * *

 

Tobio’s first impression of Takeshi-san, his new and temporary agent, is that she looks like a very no-nonsense kind of person. Really it’s not much of a change since he saw her over the computer, only now there’s no faulty connection messing up the video. Her glossy black hair is tied up into a chignon on the back of her head. She wears minimal makeup to the point where it looks like she’s not wearing anything more than some lipstick and mascara. Her resting face also makes it look like she’s low-key mad at something.

When Bokuto ushers him into her office, she’s sitting at her desk writing something. Without lifting her head, she looks at him, and her gaze is so sharp Tobio thinks he ought to check himself for cuts.

“Hello ma’am,” says Tobio, bowing. “I am Kageyama Tobio—”

“Ah yes,” she says. She pushes her chair back and stands. “Yes, we’ve been expecting you. I am Takeshi Karuho, your temporary agent for the duration of your stay here. Please call me Takeshi-san. Where are your belongings?”

Tobio glances behind him and points at Bokuto, who is still holding his bag. “Bokuto-san has them.”

“Right. Bokuto-san, please give them back. I’ll be showing Kageyama-kun to his hotel, then taking him out on a city tour to show him the locations we’ve picked. He’ll also be getting measured today.” Takeshi-san gives Tobio a cursory look. “He can’t be much bigger than Akaashi-san is, though. They look around the same size.”

“You’re right about that,” says Bokuto, giving Tobio back his bag. “Is there anything more you’d like me to do?”

“No, that’ll be all.” Takeshi bows to him, and Bokuto returns the gesture before he departs. She says to Tobio once Bokuto is gone, “I know you probably want time to settle in, but there’s a lot to do because all of us are working on a tight schedule. You are not averse to walking for hours, are you?”

“Not at all, Takeshi-san,” says Tobio. “I’m just really grateful to have been given this opportunity. I have no complaints.”

“Hmm. Good answer. Follow me.”

She takes him first to his hotel. It’s a ground-floor hole in the wall that looks decent enough when he’s shown to his room to dump his stuff. It’s all plain white walls, navy carpets and two beds with a rather ugly diamond beige design printed on the covers. There’s no adjoining bathroom, so he knows if he wants a shower, he’ll have to go to the public onsen and he’s not entirely comfortable with that.

Not wanting to keep Takeshi-san waiting, he puts his bag in a corner and hurries back out, stuffing his room card into his pocket.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a long day walking around the city with Takeshi-san, who shows him the sights, the locations they’re considering for the photoshoots, as well as meeting fashion designers who’ve taken Tobio’s measurements in order to alter their clothes to his size so they’re not too loose but not too tight.

Tobio’s socialised so much in one day it’s almost the equivalent of a month’s worth back home. Is this truly what it’s like to work in the industry? He had no idea it’s this tiring. All he wants to do is go back to the hotel and sleep for a week.

However, it was not to be.

“What do you mean the pipe’s busted?” he demands of the nervous, twitching manager of the hotel, who holds his hands up like Tobio’s about to leap over the desk and punch him in the mouth. The receptionist stands behind the manager, staring at Tobio with wide, frightened eyes. Those looks irk Tobio even more.

“The entire floor’s soaked through, not just your room, sir,” stammers the manager. “I-I can give you a refund if you like?”

It’s a ground-level hotel to boot; if the entire floor is soaked, every single room this damn place has to offer is unusable. Tobio’s got nowhere else to stay, no clue where the next hotel is with cheap prices, and Takeshi-san’s already left.

“W-we can pay you for any belongings that were damaged,” continues the manager. He’s starting to get a little more confident now that Tobio’s not looming over the desk.

“Forget about it,” says Tobio. “I’ll do it myself. Where’s my stuff?”

The manager glances over his shoulder at the receptionist, who jumps like she’s received an electric shock and runs around the counter and down the hall out of sight, returning a few seconds later with Tobio’s luggage. He’s glad he hadn’t brought anything more than a few plain t-shirts and old jeans, as he’d planned to buy better clothes in Tokyo anyway. “We’re very sorry for the inconvenience,” says the receptionist, bowing. Her words and actions are something the manager imitates as Tobio leaves, scrolling through his phone to see who he can call to come get him.

 _Maybe Bokuto-san will help me?_ Tobio thinks, thinking back to the kind, over-excitable man he’d met that day, who reminded Tobio a lot of Hinata. _Even if he can’t, it’s still worth a shot. I can’t stay out in the cold and wait until morning for Takeshi-san._

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto-san picks up on the first ring, shouting so loud that Tobio quickly pulls the phone away from his ear to save his eardrums. “What can I do for you, Kageyama-kun?”

“Hi, Bokuto-san, I need a favour.”

“Oh? What kind of favour?”

“The pipes burst in the hotel I’m staying at and all the rooms have been ruined, so I’ve got nowhere to go. Would you happen to know the cheapest accommodation in Tokyo? I apologise if I’ve bothered you for something so unimportant—”

“Damn, that sucks! Hey listen, where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“Huh? But what about—what about Akaashi-san?”

“He’s at home now, doesn’t need me until morning,” says Bokuto lightly. On his end, horns blare loudly. Tobio hears it in the distance as well, so he knows Bokuto can’t be far away. “Anyway, sounds like you’ve got a bit of an emergency. Just tell me your location and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll get it sorted for you.”

“Th-thank you so much, Bokuto-san!”

“Drop the –san, kiddo. Bokuto’s fine.”

“Yes, of course, Bokuto-sa—I mean, Bokuto. Thank you. I’m at …”

After giving Bokuto his location, Tobio sits down in the gutter to wait for him. He hopes the heat from the setting sun dries his suitcase so it doesn’t get the boot of Bokuto car all wet. He’s going to have to wash all of his clothes as soon as he finds a place to stay so that his clothes don’t get mouldy.

Five minutes tick by slowly and Tobio wonders fearfully if Bokuto’s gotten lost or stuck in traffic. Now that the sun’s going down, it’s starting to get cold, and both hoodies he brought with him are wet. Will he freeze to death out here, so that all Bokuto finds are his frozen corpse and bag? What if he gets sick? Would it be disrespectful of him to go into the studio tomorrow for the first day of shooting with a cold?

“Hey, Kageyama-kun!” Bokuto shouts, pulling a sharp u-turn. Tobio gets up and hauls his bag back onto the footpath, giving Bokuto more space to park the car. He’s filled with relief to see Bokuto. Now his chances of dying or catching a cold are slim. “Get in! I know the perfect place to take you.”

“Thank you so much, Bokuto! Can I put my bag in your boot?”

“Go right ahead.” Bokuto presses a button on the dashboard and Tobio hears the lid of the boot click as it unlocks. “Just shove some of the other stuff to the back if there’s no room. ‘Fraid the boot’s become my little storage for useless crap I don’t need anymore.”

Tobio cringes. “It’s wet, though, is that alright?”

“Dude, it can’t be helped if the pipes burst in the hotel,” laughs Bokuto, waving his hand back and forth in front of his face. “Really, I don’t care. It’ll dry anyway.”

So Tobio puts his bag in the boot and rushes to get into the passenger side of the car, feeling a little bit of trepidation. Should he tell Bokuto the prices he can afford? Do their opinions on what’s considered ‘cheap’ differ too much?

“I told Takeshi-san not to put the winner in such a cheap hotel,” says Bokuto as he pulls away from the kerb. “But did she listen to me? Nope. Not at all. She thought it’d save the company some extra money, but _now_ ,” he drags out the vowel, “look what’s happened. You didn’t even last a day in there before shit went to hell.”

Tobio doesn’t want to join in on bashing Takeshi-san’s decisions because he does like her, but ultimately he feels that Bokuto is right. He hadn’t been looking forward to the public onsen every time he wanted to bathe either.

“I—I have a fair amount of money,” he says. “I can pay for the hotel—”

Bokuto flails a hand through the air, shaking his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. There won’t be any fees where I’m taking you.”

Fear shoots through Tobio and he inches his hand toward the door handle. If he’s being kidnapped, then he’s glad he kept his wallet and phone in his pockets. Losing his clothes isn’t that big of a deal when compared to losing his life. He’ll just jump out of the car—

“Where … where are you taking me?” he asks instead, because he doesn’t think his chances of surviving are very high if he jumps out on a highway.

He startles badly when Bokuto glances at him and dissolves into laughter.

“You don’t have to worry, kiddo!” Bokuto shouts, still laughing. “I’m not gonna take you anywhere shady and kill you or something. Nah, I’m just taking you to a friend’s place. He’s got more than enough room and he won’t mind— _hopefully_ —putting you up.”

Tobio relaxes a bit. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother—”

“Nah, you’re too good a kid to be a bother. Nope.” Bokuto flashes Tobio a grin. “Just trust me. I’ll work everything out.”

“O-okay.”

They pull up, minutes later, out the front of a rather lavish building with a large set of stairs that runs up to a man in a dark yet very stylish uniform guarding the revolving door. What kind of friend does Bokuto have that lives in a gorgeous place like this? And there’s also a chance that Tobio will be staying with him here? Hinata will be so jealous!

“Out we go,” says Bokuto, nudging Tobio in the shoulder as he unbuckles his seatbelt and then opens the door. “Can’t stay in the car otherwise my friend’ll think I made you up to play a prank on him or something.”

“Do you often play pranks on your friend?”

“Probably more than my fair share, to be honest with you.” Bokuto grins. “But he’s just so easy to prank, it’s ridiculous.”

They climb the stairs to the entrance, but before they can go through, the man—who appears to be in his early to mid-sixties—holds out a hand as he moves to step in front of them, blocking their path.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I cannot let you in,” he says. “I have received no word that anyone living in this building is expecting you.”

Bokuto pulls out his wallet, takes out a business card, and hands it to the old man.

“Not to worry,” he says, “I’m the agent of Akaashi Keiji who lives in this building.” He gestures to Tobio and says, “This is, er, one of this co-workers.”

The old man stares at the business card for a moment longer, then slips it into the inside pocket of his coat. “Be that as it may, there has still been no word that Akaashi-kun is expecting anyone.”

“This is kind of short notice,” Bokuto says. He shoves his wallet back into his pocket and pulls out his phone instead, fingers tapping away on the screen. “Hang on, I’ll call him to let him know I’m here.”

He puts the phone to his ear and waits, shuffling his weight from foot to foot.

“Come on,” he mumbles to himself after a good ten seconds. “Pick up your damn phone, come on …”

He perks up instantaneously.

“Hey there, could you tell your door guard that you’re expecting me and that he should let me in? I’ve got something important I need to ask of you—no, it just came up, that’s why I didn’t call … Look could you just tell him to let us in? It’s cold out here.” He sighs, rolls his eyes and puts his phone on speaker, holding it out. “Okay, you’re on speaker.”

“Hello Sakakibara-san,” says the man on the phone, “could you please let Bokuto-san inside? He does have business to attend to with me.”

Sakakibara-san shoots Tobio a suspicious look. “What about the other one?”

There’s a pause.

“What other one?” the man asks. “I thought only Bokuto-san was there.”

“He’s part of the favour I need to ask you,” Bokuto tells him. “He’s a good kid, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Ugh, fine. Sakakibara-san please let them _both_ in.”

Sakakibara-san allows Bokuto and Tobio to pass even though he looks extremely reluctant. “Have a good evening,” he says to them as they pass.

“Thank you,” says Bokuto absently. He makes a beeline for the elevator. “Come on Tobio! We gotta head up to the sixteenth floor!”

This building is twenty storeys high. Tobio wonders how long it’ll take to reach the sixteenth floor. He finds it amazing that someone can afford to live in a building like this, and that they could afford an apartment with what has to be an incredible view. He’s not going to lie, he’s a tad bit jealous of them.

Once they reach the sixteenth floor, the elevator pings and an automated female voice says, “Welcome” as the doors draw back. Bokuto marches out like he owns the place and Tobio follows, trepidation gathering in the form of a lump in his throat.

The first thing he notices are the plate-glass windows on the other side of the apartment, showing off all of Tokyo in its glory. The inside lights are dimmed, so there’s hardly any reflections distorting Tobio’s view of the outside. He wants to run over there and press his face to glass so he can stare all he wants at the beautiful sight before him, but this isn’t his apartment and he doesn’t want to give the person who owns it a bad impression, so he holds himself in check. Barely.

After he tears his gaze away from the windows, he checks out the apartment. For the most part, everything is in one room; the spacious kitchen connects to the living room with expensive-looking furniture that looks like it’d cost half a year’s paycheque to afford. If he’s allowed to stay here, he’s definitely going to avoid those. The lounges are white to boot; what if he accidentally gets them dirty?

He spots a piano not too far away from the lounges, facing the windows where all of Tokyo sprawls before them. What would it feel like, playing to that scenery? He wants to go over there and press a couple of keys, but he doesn’t. It’s not his and he doesn’t know how to play it, so what if he breaks it by mistake? That thing must cost a fortune.

There are three doors off to the side in a narrow hallway he can only just make out from where he stands, but they’re all closed so he can’t see what they are. Most likely the bedrooms and bathroom.

“Oi!” shouts Bokuto, startling Tobio. “Are you here, Akaashi?”

Tobio’s stomach turns over.

“Akaashi?” he mutters to himself. No, it can’t possibly be—

A toilet flushes and the door on the right, closest to Tobio, opens.

“Hold your horses,” says the man, coming out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on a blue hand towel. “So what is it you want, Bokuto-san? I was under the impression I was done for the day.”

“You are,” says Bokuto. “But I really need to ask a favour of you.”

 _It’s him, it’s him!_ As the man walks out into the dim lighting of his living room, Tobio feels so faint he might just collapse to his knees right there. _That’s Akaashi Keiji!_

Tobio can’t believe it; here’s his idol, _right here_ in the flesh, in front of him. And not only that, but Tobio’s in his apartment—Bokuto’s going to ask if he can stay there! He pinches the inside of his forearm. Is this real life?!

“What kind of favour?” Akaashi asks. His eyes narrow in on Tobio, who has to fight to keep a straight face. This is one of those rare times when all he wants to do is jump and scream in glee like a child.

Instead of directly answering, Bokuto pivots to the side and flourishes his arms in Tobio’s direction and says, “So this good-looking person right here is Kageyama Tobio, winner of that competition you’re oh-so-happy to be involved in, and he needs a place to crash. Think you can help him out?”

“I thought accommodation would be provided for the winner upon their arrival?” Akaashi asks. His manner of speech is blunt but not mean. “Hasn’t Takeshi-san arranged something for him?”

“She did, but the funny thing is she put him in a cheap hole of a hotel and the pipes burst,” says Bokuto with a chuckle, rubbing his neck. “Seeing as it was a ground-floor hotel, everything is basically out of use and now he has nowhere to go.”

“I-I won’t be a bother!” Tobio pipes up, bowing so low he’s almost bent entirely in half. “I am able to cook for myself and clean up after myself. I won’t touch anything you don’t want me to touch, and I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. You won’t even notice I’m here, I promise!”

Akaashi sends a level glare in Bokuto’s direction. “He really doesn’t have _anywhere_ to go?”

“If he did, would he be here?” Bokuto quips. Under Akaashi’s unyielding gaze he sighs, deflating like all the air has been emptied from him, like a balloon. “No he doesn’t. I’ll have a word with Takeshi-san tomorrow to see if there’s something we can do.”

Tobio squirms, ashamed. He doesn’t want to a burden, or to inconvenience anyone. If Akaashi says no, he’ll be a little bit upset, yeah, but he’ll understand. Tobio’s nothing more than a complete stranger to him.

“Fine,” says Akaashi finally. “Fine, he can stay. It’s not like I don’t have the room.”

“You’re the best!” Bokuto shouts, bounding across the space between himself and Akaashi to pound him on the back. Akaashi looks a bit disgruntled by the rough treatment, but lets it go without comment. “Oh shit, I better get your bag, Kageyama-kun! Just stay here and let Akaashi show you around a bit, and I’ll bring it up!”

“Um, okay,” says Tobio uncertainly, his words falling on deaf ears because somehow Bokuto’s already in the elevator and the doors are closing. The man moves almost as fast as Hinata does. He turns around, looks at Akaashi for a moment, and then sinks into another bow. “Thank you for having me!”

“You’re welcome,” says Akaashi, “but it’s unnecessary to bow. Come with me; I’ll show you to your room. For an apartment this big, I’ve only got the one spare bedroom.”

“Oh, that’s okay!” Tobio gasps, even as he knows Akaashi likely wasn’t asking if that was alright with him. The words just slipped from his mouth, that’s all. Behind him, the elevator starts humming, as it’s in use now.

Tobio follows Akaashi across the wide expanse of the room, getting caught up in the beautiful scenery once more before they enter into a very tiny hallway where he first spotted the closed doors.

The first one is the bathroom (“Which you’re obviously welcome to use at any time, just as long as you don’t ruin anything, though I doubt you will.”) and it’s probably going to be the only room in this apartment that doesn’t look all that lavish; it’s white tiles gleam, the porcelain bathtub is sparkling clean with a brightly-coloured polka dot curtain. Opposite that with what looks to be barely enough leg room for people as tall as Tobio and Akaashi is a toilet, and it has a blue mat curling around the base.

Along the side of the bathtub are rows and rows of bottles, a loofa or two, and a couple of razors. The sink is jam-packed with more razors, shaving cream, deodorants, and other bits and bobs. Despite the fact it looks a bit cramped and that Akaashi is in need of throwing a thing or two away, it’s orderly.

Akaashi pauses at the second door and says, “This is my room” but he doesn’t move to open it up and show it to Tobio, and Tobio doesn’t ask. It’s more than enough just being able to live in the apartment of his idol. He doesn’t need much more than that.

“This one will be yours,” says Akaashi. Distantly, as Akaashi opens the door to usher Tobio in, Tobio hears the soft ding of the elevator doors opening. Bokuto’s saying something, Tobio knows he is, but he’s not paying attention. “It might be a little bit cramped in here. I’ve got a bookshelf or two in here that I didn’t want to place out in the main room, because there wasn’t an available wall for them.”

“That’s fine,” says Tobio earnestly. “Thank you for doing this for me. I promise you I won’t be a bother at all.”

Akaashi’s lips twitch. “Somehow I doubt that you could be.”

“Man that door-guard is tetchy!” Bokuto says, stomping his way across the apartment, dragging Tobio’s bag along behind him. “Oi, Akaashi! Have you shown him around yet?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san,” says Akaashi.

“Will any of your clothes need to be washed?” Bokuto asks Tobio, brows pinching in concern. “Your clothes are still wet from the burst pipes. Leave them any longer and they’ll get mouldy.”

“Give me the bag,” says Akaashi, holding his hand out expectantly. “I’ll go stick them in the washing machine.”

_There’s a washing machine in this place? Tobio thinks, as Bokuto hands over the bag wordlessly. _I didn’t see one when I came in. Where’s the laundry room?__

“I—uh, you don’t have to do that,” says Tobio quickly. He reaches out to take the bag back, but Akaashi’s already walking out of the room. “It’s not a big deal! I can just hang them out to dry or something.”

“That won’t do,” says Akaashi, “because they won’t be clean. Who knows what was in the water when the pipes burst? You could get sick.”

Tobio opens his mouth to form a response—an argument, maybe even a plea because he’s pretty embarrassed that his idol is going to be handling his laundry and he doesn’t know if he’ll survive the embarrassment of showing off his plain, old clothes—but Bokuto’s phone rings, interrupting him.

“Hello, Bokuto speaking,” says Bokuto, adopting a professional tone. He even rolls his shoulders back and stands perfectly straight and still, like a soldier being called to attention. Between each end of a sentence is a short pause, giving the person on the phone time to respond. “Sorry, I got caught up in a few important things and forgot. No, no, I can be down there in twenty minutes, no problem. Nah, it’s all been taken care of now.” A lengthy pause. “Alright, I’ll see you then.”

He disconnects the call and stuffs his phone into his pocket.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta run,” he says, glancing between Akaashi and Tobio. “Are you guys gonna be alright for now?”

“Business to take care of?” Akaashi asks conversationally.

“Yes,” says Bokuto, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “There’s still some things that need to be sorted out with the photographer and the magazines. Several journalists are vying for the chance to interview you, so there’s that.”

Akaashi sighs. “Nothing new under the sun.”

“Nothing new under the sun,” Bokuto agrees. He reaches out and claps Tobio on the shoulder, startling him. “I’ll come pick you up in the morning and take you down to the shoot,” he says. “Don’t worry about Takeshi-san; I’ll fill her in on what’s happened and let her know you’re alright. I’ve got everything covered.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san!”

“Remember what I said about the ‘—san’?” Bokuto pinches Tobio’s cheek quickly, then hurries over to the elevator before Tobio can think to protest. “Take care of yourselves and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He blows out of the apartment, and all Tobio can equate him to is a hurricane. Best never let him and Hinata meet, otherwise half of Japan will be devastated under the destruction they would cause.

Akaashi continues to the place where the laundry is. There’s a brick wall in the middle of the apartment that acts as a minor separator between the kitchen and the living room. He walks around it and disappears from sight. Unsure whether he should follow or not, Tobio stands there dumbly, listening to Akaashi putter around.

“D-do you want me to do anything?” he calls out haltingly.

“No that’s okay,” says Akaashi. He comes back around the wall, dusting off his hands. He doesn’t smile but he looks at Tobio with a little more warmth than before. “Just do your best to settle in for now, without your clothes. They’ll be done in an hour or two.”

Well that’s … that’s great, but how does one learn to get comfortable when you’re in an expensive apartment owned by your idol?

Tobio decides it’d probably be prudent to go and check out the books on the shelves Akaashi said were in his new, temporary bedroom. He’s never been into books, but right now reading seems like the safest options.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of preserving my sanity, I decided to split this story into five chapters instead. I was about ready to tear my hair out and cry because I slammed into a writing block because the chapters were too big and I was trying to stuff way too many scenes into each chapter. I'm just thankful I didn't pull my old trick of disappearing for six months before tip-toeing meekly back with a chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Part 2

Hinata can’t form a coherent sentence and Tobio has to press his hand against his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“I—you’re … You’re living with Akaashi Keiji?” Hinata demands of him finally, getting his tongue back under control. “ _The_ Akaashi Keiji, the one you have an entire wall dedicated to in your bedroom?”

Tobio’s cheeks heat up. “It’s not an _entire_ wall!”

“It might as well be,” replies Hinata. “But no seriously, how did you get that lucky?”

“I dunno. It just sort of … happened, I guess.” Tobio shrugs even though he knows Hinata can’t see him over the phone. “I’m just as shocked as you are, believe me.”

“But why were you put in such a dodgy hotel in the first place? I mean, shouldn’t this Takeshi-san person have taken care of you better? You don’t even know the city. If that Bokuto-san person hadn’t given you his number, you’d probably be on the street or paying for a really expensive hotel because you don’t know where the cheap places are.”

“I think Bokuto-san said that she wanted to save the company some money,” says Tobio, frowning. “Don’t quote me on that. I’m not sure I remember exactly what he said.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m glad you’re okay now. Actually, you’re more than okay. Akaashi Keiji is not but ten feet away from you. You’re living the fangirl fantasy right now.”

“I fear for the fangirls who’ll kill me for my position once they find out,” says Tobio, and he’s not entirely sure if he’s joking or not; Akaashi Keiji is incredibly famous. “Promise me you’ll say heroic things about me in your eulogy.”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” Hinata replies, then chuckles. “Just like his fangirls will when they come to kill you.”

“Eugh. That gets scarier every time I think about it.” Tobio’s startled out of his thoughts by a knock on the bedroom door. “Hold on, Hinata, he’s knocking.”

“Alright,” says Hinata, and falls silent.

Tobio gets off the bed and pads across the room, pressing the phone against his collarbone on instinct. He cracks open the door and has to hold his breath so he won’t let out an embarrassing sound when he sees Akaashi standing there. How can one person be so unfairly gorgeous? There’s no justice in the world …

“I’ve ordered takeout,” says Akaashi promptly. “Are you hungry?”

Tobio pauses for a moment. “A little, actually.”

Akaashi nods. “Just wanted to let you know. I’ll call you when it gets here.” He glances down at the phone pressed against Tobio’s chest. “Sorry for interrupting your call.”

“No problem,” says Tobio, “it’s just my friend Hinata.”

He wonders if he put a little too much emphasis on the word ‘friend’ and has to bury a cringe at his own stupidity.

“Right,” says Akaashi. “Well I’ll let you get back to them. Takeout should be here within the next half an hour or so.”

He walks away without another word.

“Wow,” says Hinata, awed, when Tobio closes the door and puts the phone back to his ear. “He’s just as bad at making conversation as you are!”

“Shut up, dumbass,” Tobio mutters. “We haven’t known each other for long, that’s all.”

“You mean _he_ hasn’t known _you_ for that long,” says Hinata. “You’ve known him for years because you stalk him on the Internet.”

“I do not!”

“I saw your Internet history once. Safe to say I wasn’t impressed.”

“I—that’s—that’s an invasion of my privacy!”

“We live together,” Hinata replies. “How much privacy d’you think either of us actually has? You walked in on me having a shower once.”

“Once,” says Tobio, shuddering. The memory of that day rises unbidden in his mind and he struggles not to gag. “That was _one time_ and I had to bleach my eyes afterward. You really are orange everywhere, and that was information I didn’t need to know.”

Hinata squawks in protest. “You turd! Some people _like_ orange!”

“And everyone else has good taste.”

“Bastard!”

 

* * *

 

Keiji hears the elevator start to whir, so he sighs and puts down his book and goes to get Kageyama. It’s odd, having another person live here with him. He’s too used to having this entire apartment to himself. It’s too early to say whether he enjoys the company or not, but so far Kageyama has been polite and kept to himself.

When he knocks, this time Kageyama’s not on the phone with his friend (Hinata, did he say?), and even offers to pay for half of the food.

“No need,” says Keiji. “I paid for it all online. Please go and get the plates.”

Kageyama does as he’s told. He mumbles to himself as he tries to locate the plates. Unless asked, Keiji decides he won’t tell him where they are. It’ll get him familiarised with the place if he does these things himself.

When the nervous-looking delivery girl steps out of the elevator and promptly squeaks when she sees Keiji, her cheeks going a dark red colour, Keiji hopes that this one at least remembers to give the key back to the receptionist. He has to call them any time someone is coming up, so they can hand the spare key to them that unlocks the doors to his apartment.

Bokuto made a copy of the spare so he always has one and can come and go whenever he wants. Keiji glances at Kageyama, who is meticulously setting plates and chopsticks on the coffee table, and decides he ought to give him a key as well.

“I’m—I’m a really big fan of yours,” stammers the delivery girl. She stares at Keiji like he’s hung the stars and moon in the sky as a gift to her. “Like, really big.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” says Keiji. “May I have my food now?”

The delivery girl hands over his food with trembling hands. Keiji quickly takes the white cardboard containers before she has the chance to drop any of them. She walks out of the apartment and into the elevator like a newly born foal, her legs as straight as chopsticks and her arms held stiffly at her sides. She looks like a stunned mullet.

Just before the doors close behind her, he hears her say, “Crap, I forgot to get his autograph!” but by then it’s too late. The elevator carries her down to the first floor. He _really_ hopes she gives that key back.

“Itadakimasu,” says Kageyama.

Once he lifts his noodles up with his chopsticks, he quickly cups his hand underneath the noodles to catch any oil that might drip off, then stuffs all of it into his mouth until his cheeks are bulging. He pauses, eyes widening in surprise, before he swoops down upon his food and eats it with gusto.

“Like it, do you?” Keiji has a feeling he ought to be disgusted by the lack of table manners, but instead he finds it rather endearing.

Kageyama swallows too much at once and Keiji hurriedly gets him a glass of water to wash down before he chokes.

“Y-yes!” Kageyama gasps, once his airway is cleared. “The takeout places back home are good, but this is amazing.”

Keiji remembers that Kageyama came from a quiet, small town. He doesn’t think that it would have a variety of takeout places like Tokyo does. Maybe they aren’t as high-quality as the ones here?

“It’s one of my favourite places to order from,” he admits. “I am glad that you like it.”

“I do like it!” says Kageyama. “Thank you for ordering it, and paying for it! I’ll—I’ll tidy up and wash the dishes!”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, I want to,” Kageyama insists. “It’s a fair trade.”

Keiji can feel an anxious aura exuding from Kageyama and wishes he knew how to calm him down. They don’t know each other well enough for that, so he can’t. He decides to let Kageyama clean up after dinner, if that’ll help any.

“Well then, thank you,” he says, clapping Kageyama on the shoulder. He’s sure he didn’t imagine the way that Kageyama’s cheeks turned bright red at the contact. “Thankfully there isn’t a lot to clear up, so it won’t take you that long.”

“If there are any other dishes, I’d be happy to wash them—”

“No need. I wash them immediately after I’m done with them, so there’s nothing there. Thanks for offering though.”

Keiji doesn’t think his first impression of Kageyama is wrong; he seems shy, quiet and awkward—but maybe that’s also because they don’t know each other yet, and there’s a strong possibility that Kageyama is a fan of his. Perhaps over time, Kageyama will stop talking like he’s afraid Keiji’s going to bite his head off.

In a way, Kageyama is endearing. Perhaps the next couple of weeks living with him—if Takeshi-san doesn’t find another hotel (hopefully a better one than the last) for him—won’t be so bad after all.

Kageyama collects the plates from the coffee table and takes them to the kitchen once they’re done with dinner. Sighing, Keiji turns on the television to see whether there’s anything worth watching, listening to Kageyama putter around in the kitchen as he searches through all the channels. Keiji’s definitely not used to anyone being in his home, handling his things. It’s so strange.

“I’m d-done!” Kageyama calls, wiping his hands dry with a dish cloth. “Is there anything else you’d like to do, Akaashi-san?”

“No. Thank you.” _You’re my guest, not my housekeeper._ “If you’d like, you can come watch television with me, if there’s nothing else you’d rather do.”

“I-I’d love to watch television with you.” Kageyama darts across the room and kneels down beside Keiji. He looks as if someone has given him a priceless gift that he’ll treasure for the rest of his life. “Th-thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” Keiji hands the remote to Kageyama. “How about you decide? I don’t know what I want to watch. I don’t get a lot of time to watch television.”

Kageyama takes the remote carefully, like it’ll break if he presses down on it too much. He takes a few seconds to learn where all the buttons are that he needs, then he starts clicking through channels, before he inevitably stops on a silly comedy that elicited a small gasp from him when he found it.

“Hinata and I love this show,” he says. “We watch it every week.”

It’s not an episodic show like Keiji initially thought; there’s an overarching plot, so it’s difficult for him to get all the references. He doesn’t mind, though; there are funny moments he understands, though they are few and far between.

At some point, his gaze starts to drift toward Kageyama, as he’s growing bored. When you don’t understand the references, there’s only so much you can take before your mind starts to wander.

Keiji knows he can insist on changing the channels, but he finds himself enjoying the way Kageyama’s face lights up and his eyes dance every time something funny happens; how his shoulders hunch and he tilts his head forward to let his fringe cover his face as he smiles shyly. Kageyama’s enjoying himself and the nervous energy surrounding him is slowly starting to dissipate.

Keiji’s phone rings just as the end credits roll. He and Kageyama jump at the unexpectedly loud noise. Snatching his phone up off the coffee table, Keiji murmurs an apology to Kageyama as he goes to answer the phone in the kitchen. It’s Bokuto.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto shouts. Keiji holds the phone away from his ear, sighing, more than accustomed to Bokuto’s method of greeting him.

“Hello, Bokuto-san, how can I help you?”

“Is Kageyama-kun settling in alright?” Bokuto asks. “Just wanted to check up on him and make sure.”

“Then why didn’t you call his phone?” Keiji asks conversationally.

“As much as I think the kid likes me, I don’t think he’s the type to enjoy talking to people he barely knows over the phone. Kid’s got a lot of nervous energy.”

“He’s fine,” says Keiji. He leans back so he can see into the living room without having to move. Kageyama’s inspecting his nails, ignoring the breaking news story that interrupted the program. “Just watching television.”

“You mean that big black box in the corner of the room that displays moving pictures when you turn it on?” says Bokuto sarcastically. “ _That_ television?”

“I don’t get a lot of time in the day to watch television,” says Keiji, a bit sharply. “When I’m not working, I’m either sleeping or eating. So yes, _that_ television that rarely gets used, Bokuto.”

“Wow, you’re not in a good mood.”

“I’m just tired, sorry.” It’s then that Keiji notices just how tired he actually is. He stifles a yawn behind his hand, blinking rapidly. “It’s been a long day.”

“Thanks to the competition, your days are about to get a little longer.” Bokuto pauses for a couple of seconds, then says, “Are you sure you gonna be up to it?”

“I can handle it just fine,” says Keiji. “I do this all the time, remember?”

“Well I can schedule in a week long break for you once all of this is over. The last time you had a proper holiday was sixteen months ago.”

“That’ll be great, thanks.” Keiji yawns again. “Don’t you actually want to speak to Kageyama though? I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“Nah. I’ll see him in the morning.”

“Alright. Well, I’m tired, so I’m gonna hang up now and go to bed. Anything else you wanna say before I go?”

“Nah, man. I’m good. Have a nice sleep alright?”

“Alright. Goodnight, Bokuto-san.”

“Night, Akaashi! And drop the ‘–san’!”

Keiji snorts and disconnects the call. He taps his phone against the palm of his hand as he goes back into the living room.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” he says, and Kageyama jumps. “Feel free to stay out here as long as you like, but just remember to turn off all the lights before you go to bed as well.” Is that _fear_ on Kageyama’s face? “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” says Kageyama loudly. His shoulders are hunched and he has a ‘deer-caught-in-headlights’ expression. “Have a good sleep, Akaashi-san!”

Keiji smiles. Endearing, indeed. “Goodnight.”

He falls asleep a few minutes after he crawls into bed, but all too soon he’s awake again. It’s still dark, so he can’t have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. He doesn’t know what’s woken him up, but he feels unsettled. Something is wrong.

Getting out of bed, Keiji rubs his left eye with his fist as he leaves his bedroom and goes out into living room. The apartment is dark except for the little ceiling light a few inches in front of the elevator. Has Kageyama gone to bed?

Then he hears a quiet sob. No, Kageyama’s not in bed at all.

Stepping further out into the living room, Keiji spots Kageyama sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the windows, illuminated by the city lights. He’s hunched over, shoulders trembling.

 _He’s crying_ , Keiji thinks, shocked. _Why is he crying?_

“Kageyama-kun,” he says softly. “Are you okay?”

He pads over to Kageyama’s side and kneels down next to him. Kageyama gasps and jerks, hands flying up to cover his face.

“Akaashi-san!” he chokes out. “I’m … I’m fine!”

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t be crying,” Keiji points out. A car in the streets below honks its horn, setting off a chain reaction from another five cars. “Please talk to me and let me know what’s wrong.”

There’s a lengthy pause. Keiji opts to sit down next to Kageyama, crossing his legs as well. He has a feeling they might be there for a while.

“I … I find it difficult to, um, sleep in unfamiliar places,” mumbles Kageyama, sounding ashamed. “I’ve always had this problem.”

 _Separation anxiety,_ Keiji realises.

“It took me a while to a-adjust to living with Hinata,” Kageyama continues. “But it was easier because my parents weren’t that far away. Now, though—”

“Now you’re in an unfamiliar city full of people you don’t know,” Keiji fills in for him, inclining his head. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. But you could have come to get me if you were having difficulty sleeping, or you could have told me earlier.”

“I didn’t want you to think that I was pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic. _You’re_ not pathetic.” Keiji sighs, glancing out the window at the sprawling city. If he came from a small, quiet town to live in a city as big as this one, he’d be terrified too. “Would you like a hot chocolate?”

Kageyama blinks up at him, confused. “Huh?”

“Hot chocolate,” Keiji repeats. “Do you want one? I suddenly have a craving for some. It does wonders to help calm you down, too.”

“Yes please,” Kageyama mumbles, returning his gaze to his lap once more. “I would like a hot chocolate. Do you want me to help make them?”

“You just sit there,” says Keiji, standing. “I can do it.”

He keeps an eye on Kageyama as he goes about making the hot chocolate, but Kageyama stays where he is, staring out the window as his hands fidget in his lap.

“Here you are,” says Keiji, coming back into the living room with two mugs in hand, offering one to Kageyama.

“Thank you,” says Kageyama, taking it. He nurses it in between his hands, allowing it to cool down before he starts drinking it. Keiji starts sipping at his own immediately. “So you don’t … think I’m weird f-for, you know, this.” He gestures vaguely at himself, and he must be alluding to his separation anxiety.

“Not at all,” says Keiji immediately. “I’ve known a fair few people who suffer from separation anxiety as well. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“O-okay.” Kageyama starts to sip at his hot chocolate. His eyes light up the moment the liquid hits his tongue and he says, “This is nice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Keiji pauses, allowing the silence to drag out for a good twenty seconds before he asks, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“N-no … I usually just wait until I’m too tired to stay awake anymore, t-then I can fall asleep without a problem. It might take a while, though.”

“That won’t do,” says Keiji. He’s not going to leave Kageyama out here alone to suffer his anxiety in silence, just so that he, himself, can go back to bed and try for a good night’s sleep. They have a lot to do in the morning. “Go sit on the sofa.”

“Huh?” Kageyama blinks up at Keiji. “What?”

“We’re having a movie night,” Keiji declares. “We’re going to be sleeping out here. Maybe you’ll find it easier to relax when you have company. Go sit on the sofa while I get the pillows and blankets.”

He sets his mug on the coffee table and marches over to his bedroom.

“Pick the movie while you’re out there!” he shouts, scooping up his blanket, before shoving two pillows on top.

“What should I choose?”

“I don’t care what you pick.”

Keiji’s blanket is big enough to cover both of them easily, but they’ll be on opposite sides of the living room, sleeping on different sofas, so he knows he’s going to have to make another trip to Kageyama’s room for the other blanket.

When he comes out with the second blanket, Kageyama’s putting a disc into the DVD player.

“What did you choose?” Keiji asks.

The tips of Kageyama’s ears go red. “Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“That’s one of my favourites,” says Keiji. “Good choice.”

“Tha-thank you.”

They let the menu screen play for a good two minutes as they get settled on the sofa with their pillows and blankets.

“You’re not worried that your sofa will get dirty, are you?” Kageyama asks anxiously. His feet are still on the ground, even as he lies sideways. “I mean, it’s white.”

“I don’t care,” says Keiji. “It’s a sofa and it’s meant to be sat on and used. If they get wrecked, I’ll throw them out and buy another one. It’s no big deal.”

Kageyama puts his feet on the sofa, appeased. He ends up falling asleep half an hour into the movie, his light snores attracting Keiji’s attention.

 _Cute_ , Keiji thinks, smiling. He nestles his face deeper into his pillow and closes his eyes, confident that he can now sleep without there being anymore issues with Kageyama. Keiji feels kind of proud of himself for handling the situation as well as he did. He drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

They’re up bright and early the next morning. Their mugs of hot chocolate sit half full on the coffee table, their blankets lying in mounds on the sofas. Tobio feels delightfully well-rested and he only has Akaashi to thank for that.

“Leave them,” says Akaashi, when Tobio tries to clean up the mess they’ve made in the living room. “We don’t have time for that. Bokuto’s picking us up in roughly half an hour, so we have to eat breakfast and get ready as quickly as possible.”

“Right,” says Tobio. He sits down at the kitchen table to eat his breakfast, feeling a little guilty about not cleaning up his mess.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto shouts not too long later, stepping out of the elevator. He’s entirely too boisterous for this time in the morning. “You guys ready to go?”

“Akaashi-san is in the shower,” says Tobio. “He should be getting out soon.”

Tobio’s already had his shower, as he finished eating breakfast first.

“That’s fine. I’m a little early anyway.” Bokuto stops in front of Tobio, looking down at him in a way that makes Tobio feel uncomfortable. “How are you fairing, huh? I hope your first night wasn’t too bad.”

“No, Akaashi-san’s a wonderful host,” Tobio replies immediately. “There was nothing at all wrong with my first night here.”

“That’s great!” says Bokuto. “I’m glad to hear that, because Takeshi-san is a little reluctant to spend more money putting you up in another hotel.” He cringes apologetically. “She’s always been this anal about finances, unfortunately.”

“Will Akaashi-san be alright putting me up for longer?” Tobio asks worriedly. The last thing he wants is to be a burden to him.

The bathroom door creaks open and Akaashi steps out, fully-clothed, drying his hair with a towel. “I’d be more than happy to,” he says. “Like I said before, it’s not like I don’t have the space, and you’re not a bad person to room with.”

Tobio blushes at the praise, averting his eyes. “Thank you.”

“So what’s on the agenda today?” asks Akaashi as he goes to get a drink, glancing up at Bokuto so he knows he’s being spoken to.

“First of all you’ll be going to the studio to get ready,” says Bokuto. “There’s a whole rack of clothing waiting for you when you get there. Then you’ll be heading up to the top of the Tokyu Tokyoko building.”

Akaashi leans against the counter, nursing a glass of milk in front of his face. “That’s the one with the soccer field on it, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” says Bokuto. “Not a bad location. Takeshi-san was all over it.”

Chuckling softly, Akaashi says, “I’m not surprised. She’s a big sports fan isn’t she?”

“Insult her favourite team only if you want to die a painful death. Actually, not even her favourite team. Insult the sport—any sport—and you will die.”

“Do they really want to take photos up there in the middle of the day?” Tobio asks. He’s seen pictures of that place and it looks amazing at night.

“It’ll take a while to get you guys ready for it, as well as waiting for the place to be cleared off so we can use it,” says Bokuto. “The photoshoot will begin roughly in the mid-afternoon, transitioning into night.”

Tobio nods. Suddenly, he feels incredibly nervous. It’s his first professional photoshoot ever. This time it’s not him dragging Hinata out to different picturesque places in Torono, then altering them to look more professional later on. This is the _real deal._

“It figures that Takeshi-san would book for a photoshoot there of all places,” Akaashi continues, and Bokuto laughs. “Are we gonna be decked out in athletic gear?”

 _What if I fuck up?_ Tobio thinks anxiously.

“Thankfully not,” replies Bokuto, slightly red-faced from laughing. “They’ll be taking down the nets around the field just for us, though, which is why we gotta wait for everyone to clear off. Some of the teams have it booked for the morning and early afternoon. Takeshi-san got the next available times after them.”

 _What happens if suddenly it turns out that I’m not cut out for this after all?_ Tobio clenches his fists tight and presses them into his lap. _What if I make the company and Akaashi look bad?_

“Kageyama-kun, are you alright?” Bokuto asks, jolting Tobio out of his reverie. “You look really pale. You’re not sick, are you?”

“Huh? Uh, no of course not!” Tobio says quickly. “I’m not sick. I’m f-fine.”

He almost wilts under the pair of eyes scrutinising him, but both Akaashi and Bokuto seems to come to the conclusion that he’s fine, because they don’t say anything more on the subject and are content to leave Tobio be for now.

“Right, we better get going,” says Bokuto a few minutes later, having just checked the time on his wristwatch. “Takeshi-san will have my head if we’re late.”

It’s a ten-minute drive to the studio. Tobio endures roughly an hour of hair and makeup, which wouldn’t have been so bad if there weren’t three or four people on him or surrounding him at a time. When they weren’t fussing over his hair and face, they were talking with each other loudly, their high-pitched laughter grating on his ears. It makes him feel uptight and nervous.

Once that’s done, it’s nearly midday and he’s starting to feel hungry. He doesn’t have the heart to ask whether he can actually eat something, because he doesn’t want to risk ruining the makeup and going through the whole process again. Looks like he’ll just have to eat a big dinner tonight to compensate.

“Oi,” says Akaashi, appearing by Tobio’s elbow. “Are you feeling okay?”

Tobio jumps, choking on a sharp inhale. He hasn’t seen Akaashi since they arrived, as there was some “important business” Akaashi had to take care of the moment they arrived, and was whisked away in the blink of an eye.

“I’m fine,” he says, but even to his own ears he can tell he sounds awkward and stilted. His nervousness from this morning hasn’t abated yet.

“Are you sure? You do still look pale, even under all that makeup.” Akaashi pauses, pinching his chin between forefinger and thumb, his head slightly tilted. “It’s alright to be anxious, you know. This is your first time, yes?”

Whilst that sentence probably could’ve been phrased better, Tobio nods and stutters out, “Y-yes.” His cheeks are hot to the touch and he can’t even look in Akaashi’s direction.

“Then don’t worry about it,” says Akaashi, clapping Tobio briefly on the shoulder. “No one is expecting great things from you when it’s your first photoshoot. It’s okay to make mistakes.”

But that’s the thing; Tobio _doesn’t want_ to make a mistake. Mistakes cost people time, puts most of their energy and effort to waste. He knows he can be a cocky brat sometimes, but he’s not cocky enough to presume that everyone should be happy to waste their time on him. They all have important jobs to do. They’re all important people—and Tobio’s _not_. He’s a nobody. He’s here working with them purely by chance. There’s no way he can make a mistake because nobodies can be and are left behind.

“R-right,” he says, deciding not to give voice to his turbulent thoughts. The last thing he wants is to burden Akaashi with them, and run the risk of dragging him down as well.

“Are you hungry?” Akaashi asks.

“No.” Tobio’s stomach, however, gives him away by letting out the loudest rumble he’s ever heard. Blushing to the roots of his hair, he wraps his arms around his stomach and ducks his head. “Um … y-yes …”

Akaashi’s audible exhale sounds strangely like a laugh. “Come on then. I’m sure they’ve got something good here to eat—they usually do.”

Tobio gestures to his face, making a circular movement with his index finger. “But … but won’t I ruin the makeup if I eat?”

Akaashi smirks.

“Not unless you eat like a pig and get food everywhere. It’s not unusual to come back for a touch-up now and again.” Akaashi stops in his tracks and says over his shoulder in a serious voice, “You’re not inconveniencing anyone, Kageyama.”

“I—I know I’m not,” says Tobio.

Tobio can tell Akaashi doesn’t believe him one bit; his disbelief is etched all over his face. Thankfully, he says nothing else relating to the matter and lets it drop. He leads

Tobio in search of food without bringing work business up again.

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later find them stuffed into Takeshi-san’s car following behind a small van full of equipment, heading out to their location. There’s a few things to sort out before they can go in, so Takeshi-san instructs Tobio and Akaashi to stay where they are whilst she and a few others go inside.

“Are you ready for this?” asks Akaashi, after a few seconds of silence. He glances at Tobio out of the corner of his eye.

“Bit nervous,” replies Tobio. A massive understatement; he feels like he’s about to throw up all his insides. His stomach is writhing with anxiety.

“Don’t be afraid to ask for a break. Admittedly it might tick a few photographers off, but I saw the one running this photoshoot and he’s a good guy, works well with the models. Never gets too fussed about anyone needing to take five.”

 _But I don’t want to make anyone wait,_ Tobio thinks, distressed. _I don’t want to piss anyone off, making them wait for someone like me. They’re important people and I’m not. They have important jobs, and currently I don’t have one for sure. How can I presume to think they’d truly be okay with this? No, I’ve gotta pull my shit together._

“Huh?” Akaashi asks, frowning. “What’d you say?”

Tobio realises he said the last part out loud. “Oh, um … nothing. I said nothing.”

Akaashi’s gaze lingers on him a few seconds more, before he turns to look at the Tokyu Tokyoko building and mutters, “What’s taking them so long?”

As if summoned by Akaashi’s rising impatience, Takeshi-san steps out of the building.

“The soccer team is still wrapping up practice,” she says through gritted teeth, as she gets into the car and slams the door behind her. Her left hand is clenched so tightly into a fist that the skin over the knuckles has turned white. “They promised they would clear out before now! So irresponsible and rude …”

“But just imagine how beautiful it’ll look once the sun starts setting behind the towers,” Akaashi points out, although he’s smirking. “Maybe they should keep us waiting until an hour before the sun sets.”

“They better not!” Takeshi-san snaps. “Soccer players or not, I will skin them alive if they keep us waiting any longer.”

“They’re heaps bigger than you, though. They could probably break you in half easily.”

“Not when I’m furious, they can’t. They won’t know what’s hit them!”

Tobio clears his throat. “I—I think they’re coming out now.”

“What?” Takeshi-san spins around in her seat. However, there’s nobody coming out of the building except for a pair of girls with shopping bags. Akaashi cottons on and starts laughing, unsuccessfully masking the noise behind his hand. Takeshi-san gapes at Tobio in disbelief. “You tricked me!”

Tobio bites his lip, fighting the desperate urge to giggle. “S-sorry.”

Akaashi’s bent over double, shoulders trembling.

“Alright, ha, ha, you got me,” says Takeshi-san, but she doesn’t sound upset. Rolling her eyes, settles into her seat, calmer than before.

 _I guess she’s not entirely a ‘no nonsense’ kind of person_ , Tobio thinks. His nerves are starting to settle.

“Oh,” says Takeshi-san abruptly, and Tobio jumps. “They’re calling us inside. Come on, it’s time to go.”

What was that about Tobio’s nerves settling? As he climbs out of the car and walks up the steps with Akaashi, he feels like his heart is beating in his throat.

_What have I gotten myself into?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ.
> 
> I've been away from this fic for so long that I had to rush this chapter because it is the reason I've been avoiding this fic for months. Rest assured that chapter 4 is over 5k in length and still going (but almost finished), but chapter 5 is finished and over 10k. I know where this fic is going. This lackluster third chapter is the best I could do. Please don't take this as an example that I don't care. If I didn't care, there'd be no update.
> 
> I'm going to have this fic done by October. By the end of January next year, the majority of my Haikyuu!! fanfics will be done. Once they're all finished, however, I'm ducking full-time into the Supernatural fandom for a few months. Perhaps I'll write stuff for Haikyuu!! once season three comes out, but I'm finding my passion for an old fandom and I want to see how I can grow as a writer in said fandom with different characters and a better chance at broadening my horizons. 
> 
> I just don't want to be that writer who has thousands of unfinished fanfics for years.

Part 3

 

As soon as they get to the top of the building, Tobio’s anxiety skyrockets. This is it, the moment of truth. He’s not sure he’s ready for this.

If Akaashi weren’t standing behind him, Tobio knows he probably wouldn’t have gotten out of the elevator before the doors closed on him. As it is, his legs feel stiff and his knees almost refuse to bend at all, so he knows he’s walking funny. Not exactly leaving the best impression on everyone’s minds, that’s for sure.

“Relax,” Akaashi says. “You’re fine.”

But it becomes abundantly clear within the first half an hour that Tobio’s definitely not fine; he’s too stiff for the photos. In one of them, he looks like he’s in severe pain.

“Calm down, calm down,” says the photographer for what has to be the hundredth time. It’s unclear whether he sounds bored or exasperated. “You need to relax, Kageyama-kun.”

 _I’m trying,_ Tobio thinks, panicking. _I’m trying!_

What makes it worse is that Akaashi has to wait for Tobio to finish his singles shots, before he can do his own. Not only is Tobio stuffing up, he’s making other people wait for him as well.

No matter how many times he tries to calm down and collect himself, the knowledge that he’s ruining everything for everyone weighs him down like a ton of bricks, and he makes even more mistakes.

Takeshi-san calls out, “Perhaps we can take a five-minute break?” She holds her hand high above her head to call attention to herself.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” says the photographer. He lowers his camera and rolls his shoulders with a groan. “Take five everyone!”

Mortified, Tobio mumbles an apology and excuses himself. He walks into the building with as much dignity as he can muster, but when he’s inside the lift that’s taking him to the bottom floor, he allows himself a little cry.

Fucking hell, why does he always mess everything up?

 

* * *

 

Takeshi-san puts her hand on Keiji’s shoulder and says, “Can you go after him and make sure he’s okay, please? I’m worried about him.”

“He won’t go too far,” Keiji assures her.

“I know, but still. None of us are strangers to first-time jitters—old hats, as it were—but we still need to check up on models and reassure them before they get discouraged. However, I need to run over a few things with the photographer. I need you to go for me. Can you do that?”

Keiji bites back a sigh and smiles. “Sure I can.”

She pats him distractedly on the arm twice. “Thank you.”

As Keiji heads toward the lift, he listens to his gut instinct that tells him Kageyama took it to the ground floor so that he could get away from the building.

And he’s right; when he steps outside again, peering around, he spots Kageyama sitting hunched over on a bench not twenty feet away. He’s partially hidden by a tree in a large, square pot plant. However, hidden away as he is, it’s still plain to see how miserable he is.

“Kageyama-kun,” says Keiji, strolling up to him.

He hears a startled gasp.

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to ruin the shoot,” Kageyama says quickly, miserable, when Keiji joins him at the bench. “I’m sorry, I … I lost my nerve. I’m pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Keiji assures him. “Everyone gets nervous the first time around. It’s completely normal.”

“But they all must be angry at me for wasting their time.” Kageyama buries his face in his hands, groaning. “I’m so _stupid_.”

“They’re not mad; they just want to know if you’re alright.” Keiji reaches out and pats Kageyama on the shoulder. “They’re ready to go whenever you are.”

Kageyama nods, head still buried in his hands. “R-right.”

“Do you need to sit out here for a little bit longer?” Keiji asks. “To use this time to calm down, that is.”

“I—I think so, yeah.” Kageyama clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I’ve been in your position before.” Keiji starts to stand, but Kageyama’s hand shoots out and grasps his wrists. “What is it?”

“Please stay with me,” Kageyama whispers so softly Keiji almost doesn’t understand a word. “I can’t—I can’t be alone with my thoughts right now.”

And so Keiji sits down next to Kageyama. He’ll stay as long as he’s needed.

 

* * *

 

With Akaashi’s assurances, Tobio walks back into the shoot ten minutes later and offers the sincerest apology he can muster to the crew, bowing so low his back aches. Determination burns like fire in his veins. He can do this.

He _will_ do this.

If Akaashi believes that he can, then he can.

Luckily for Tobio, everyone’s willing to take him back and work with him again. There’s a pleased smile on Takeshi-san’s that makes Tobio’s insides feel warm with pleasure. For the first time tonight he’s doing _something_ right.

He follows the photographer’s directions to the best of his ability, swallowing back any remaining nerves. Focus on the job, just focus on the job.

“Nice work,” whispers Akaashi, when he steps in for the pair shots.

“Thank you,” Tobio whispers breathlessly.

Two hours later, everyone’s packing up and heading out. The shoot’s over now. But Tobio can’t pull himself away from the camera where the photographer is showing him all the photos they’ve taken.

Somewhere between his abysmal first attempt and now, something has changed in him. He sees that fire in his eyes that he lacked before, and he’s blown away by it.

Takeshi-san touches his elbow, getting his attention. She’s beaming at him like a proud mother. “Why don’t we go out to celebrate?”

“I-I’d like that,” says Tobio eagerly.

 

* * *

 

It’s an additional two hours before Akaashi and Tobio returns to the apartment, pleasantly buzzed from copious amounts of alcohol they consumed.

As Akaashi goes to the bathroom to clean himself up, Tobio contents himself with wandering aimlessly around the apartment, lingering at the windows to take in the scenery. It really is beautiful tonight.

Something catches his eye in the corner. A piano. _Akaashi-san can play?_

He wanders over to it and lifts up the wooden slat. Curiously, he presses a few of the keys, delighting in the sound. Because he doesn’t know how to play, he continues pressing keys at random, then drags a finger from right to left, then left to right.

“Finally discovered the piano, have you?” says Akaashi.

“Play something for me?” Tobio asks, running his fingers along the piano’s ivory keys. In the time he’s spent here, he’d never heard Akaashi play. In all his years of being a fan, he’d never even known Akaashi _could_ play an instrument. “Please?”

Akaashi regards Tobio with a long, steadfast look, then nods in acquiescence. When he takes a seat on the piano bench, Tobio realises there’s not enough space for the both of them to sit together comfortably, so he sits on the sofa. After a moment’s hesitation, he twists around and brings his feet up, wrapping his arms under his knees.

There’s a moment where Akaashi’s fingers hesitate over the keys. He bobs his head once, twice, three times, and then starts to play.

It’s easy to get lost in the soft, melodic song. Tobio closes his eyes and tips his head back, sucking his lip between his teeth. He’s never heard this song before in his life—doesn’t know any classic piano songs, or any composers—but that doesn’t matter. He finds himself swaying with the music.

When it ends, it almost feels abrupt even though it isn’t. Akaashi gently presses the keys, lets the sound slowly dies out, and then there’s nothing more. Feeling as though he’s lost something precious, Tobio opens his eyes.

“That was beautiful,” he says.

All at once he becomes aware of the hubbub of Tokyo; the honking of horns, screeching of tyres, and even a faint of hum of people talking even though this apartment is so far up. The illumination of the city lights turns the apartment a dark, yet somehow warm, blue, and the shadows dance lazily in the corners.

“Thank you.” Akaashi keeps his back to Tobio for a few seconds, and then turns. “This was one of my favourite songs to play when I was growing up.”

“I can see why.” Tobio clears his throat. “Could you—um, could you play something else? Another one of your favourites?”

“Of course.”

Tobio notes that Akaashi prefers to play slow, soulful music. They almost sound melancholic. But nothing and nobody can deny their beauty. Without any prompting on Tobio’s part, Akaashi plays another three songs in succession.

“I always wanted to become a singer when I was a kid,” Akaashi admits, when he finishes playing the fourth song. He doesn’t turn to face Tobio. “Modelling wasn’t exactly on my radar until I was a teen.”

“A singer?”

“Mm-hmm,” says Akaashi. “Piano lessons since I was four and singing lessons since I was seven. I was, uh, I was dead-set on becoming a famous singer. Modelling only came about because of an ad in the newspaper.”

“Uh, wow.”

“What do you think?” Akaashi regards Tobio with a sly glance over his shoulder, running his fingers reverently over the keys. “Think I’m a sell-out or something, or maybe a cheater, spring-boarding off of my success as a model to, hopefully, launch myself into a successful singing career?”

 


End file.
